


The Curious Tapes and the Ghosts who Haunt Them

by ThePrincePeach



Series: The corpse in the corner begins to weep at what was taken from him. [6]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Ghosts, Gore, Haunting, More tags to be added per chapter, Mutilation, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Past Violence, Self-Mutilation, Violence, Yeah this one is multiple chapters lel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrincePeach/pseuds/ThePrincePeach
Summary: Jeremy is given a set of tapes, maybe they hold answers - maybe those answers aren't what he wanted. Maybe Mister Afton isn't so good of a person.Maybe Jeremy will remember this time.
Series: The corpse in the corner begins to weep at what was taken from him. [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815121
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. The Tapes are Found

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! This is multiple chapters in the series! I'm doing a multi-chapter fic this time as to not disrupt the flow of progress, and to keep the theme in its own fic! I'm not sure if I'll find an end to this one, or keep this ongoing as the Corpse series progresses. 
> 
> Let me know that you think in the comments below! Thank you!

His memory was getting worse. Remember, Jeremy, remember.

Three tapes sat on the desk, each with a label on the side, all stacked nicely against each other in a tower of evidence. On top, there was a simple note; ‘Watch’. Jeremy knew the handwriting well, too well. With a trembling hand, he lifted the sticky note and thought aloud in a soft, whispery tone, 

“Paul…” 

His dark eyes turned from the note to the tapes, to the televisions sitting in the corners of the office. No tape players on them, unfortunately. One at home, though. He looked back to the tapes, staring at them thoughtfully before he heard the front doors open and close. The man tensed up and hurried to shove the tapes into his bag, hiding it back behind his chair as he dropped into it to sit. He smiled to the dark hallway, chiming out a tired, 

“Good morning, Mister Afton.” 

Six am, someone always came in the morning to let the night shift out. In an hour or so, the morning staff would arrive. Two hours after that, the building would be opened to the public. Morning staff did the basics of prep work, cleaning up, touch-ups, most management came in the morning to get their in-office hours done with for the day while it was still quiet. Jeremy didn’t mind these night shifts. Sure, the circumstance for these shifts were unfortunate, but he was still grateful for work. The man coming down the hallway waved and flashed a smile, holding a cup of coffee. 

“Morning, Jeremy,” Afton replied as he set the cup on the desk, “How was your night?” 

“Boring as always,” Jeremy chuckled with a wave of dismissal, “Yours?” 

“Nothing interesting,” He walked around the desk and behind Jeremy, the man nervously pulling the back away and to his side to keep from Afton’s track. Afton opened the lockers behind him, Jeremy kept a wary eye on him. “Any word from Mike?” Jeremy paused, then shook his head. “Poor kid, hope he’s alright. Have you visited him recently?” Jeremy frowned and shook his head again. A lie. All lies. Afton pulled out a jacket from the locker and again, turning to Jeremy, smiled. “Really? You two are so close, I’m a bit surprised at that. Oh well,” he turned back to the locker as he slipped on the jacket. “Tell him I give my wishes when you see him.” 

“I… I will,” Jeremy said, hands folded in his lap, “I’m good to clock out now, right?” This time, Afton paused and looked down to him with a curious expression. Jeremy normally stayed to greet the morning staff. Then again, Mike wouldn’t be there, so why stay? Afton nodded after a moment and looked back to the locker as he adjusted the jacket. 

“Go ahead,” He mumbled. Jeremy nodded and grabbed his cane sitting atop the desk, only stopping when he realized Afton had his hand pressed against it – keeping it down. The man looked to the other with another frown as Afton smiled to him. “One last thing, though, Jeremy, before you go…” He leaned down to the other, tilting his head a bit, just staring at him. Jeremy squirmed in his seat as he leaned back, pressing his back into the chair. Their eye contact didn’t break. Afton chuckled, then whispered quietly in the man’s ear. 

A secret, only for him. Horrible things. Jeremy’s eyes widened as he stared straight ahead, past the other man, to the wall and poster grinning back at him. As if urging Jeremy on to sit and listen. 

The man pushed away Afton and hurried to his feet, snatching his cane and bag along the way. Afton laughed as Jeremy rushed away. 

“See you tonight, Jeremy.” 

… 

His apartment was quiet and calm, too much so for comfort. Jeremy closed the door behind him and leaned against it with his bag held close to his chest. Through the building, the drive home, hurrying to his apartment and up to his floor, locking the door behind him – Jeremy watched the bag. The tapes. The note. Why was there a note? How could /he/ have written a note? Was this old? No, no, Jeremy remembered another intern setting out those sticky notes just last morning. He set the bag on the couch and watched it with uncertainty. 

Something felt so wrong about the tapes. They shouldn’t exist, Jeremy thought as his fingers curled around the collar of his jacket. Afton erases tapes as he pleases, he wouldn’t leave behind evidence so willy-nilly, right? Maybe, Jeremy tensed up, maybe this was Afton’s plan. Was this evidence the police were searching for? Did Afton trick Jeremy into taking evidence he planted? Jeremy’s fingerprints were on them now, no one would believe a dead man wrote a note anyway. Jeremy saw the corpse. Paul was dead, yet his handwriting promised otherwise. He did see Paul’s corpse, right? That thing in… Was it the basement? Or the back room? No, no he just saw Paul in the party room. Didn’t he? No, he saw Paul in the hallway of his apartment. That couldn’t be true. The tapes. His hand trembled as he reached out for the bag. 

He couldn’t remember what Afton told him. 

Jeremy couldn’t remember sitting in front of the television until the tape was playing. He blinked a few times. When did he sit down? When did he put the tape in? What tape was it anyway? Remember, Jeremy. Remember. 

He held his head as the tape began to play, trying to remember the last time he took his medicine. 

The screen lit up.


	2. Mike is Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy pushes in the first tape with trembling fingers, hesitates, then presses play.
> 
> Mike is asleep.

“Do not speak.”

“… Hn… Hnn…” 

“No, no. Do not talk. Your tongue will not let you. That is a good thing.” 

Mike was splayed out on the dark floor, staring hazily straight ahead to the ceiling. Covered in blood, in bruises, parts of his face and ears covered in gaping, opened wounds. His leg was bent to a wrong angle, his jeans torn around the knee and down to the calf. His chest rose and fell with each laboured breath, slow and shallow – in great pain with each intake of air. Broken ribs and a broken heart, he wasn’t sure which one hurt more. He closed his eyes, allowing the darkness to overtake him. 

It felt nice. It felt horrible. 

He missed his brother.

He opened his eyes and glittering lights shined above him. He blinked a few times as he moved his hand up to shield his eyes, pausing when he noticed the blood was gone. His fingers curled and uncurled slowly, taking in the warm air above him. He smiled. It all felt so warm, so fuzzy. Butterflies on daisies on Spring days. Strings of banners hung along with the lights, each a different colour, flowing in a breeze Mike couldn’t feel. Balloons bobbed in gentle rhythms, some hung from the tables scattered around the brightly lit party room. The tables were decorated with plates of goodies; candy and cupcakes, large cakes and delicate cookies, snacks and treats in large bowls as well. Gift boxes stacked lazily against the tables, stuffed toys sitting in chairs for each table. Occasionally, one would wave or tilt its head, swaying to music Mike couldn’t quite hear. 

Mike let out a happy laugh despite himself and held his cheeks, fingers brushing over his piercings, over his nose and lips and cheeks and up to his ears. He sat up and realized the soft carpet below him, his fingers running through it to take in the plushness of it all. He looked down, his legs were normal. He laughed again and rubbed his thighs. The heavenly smell of sweets and popcorn and salted snacks wafted through the air. Somewhere off, Mike heard music, heard giggling and laughing and singing; a party? A circus? He couldn’t tell. It sounded like fun. He wanted to go and see.

“You’re awake!”

He paused and glanced around, noting the toy standing behind him. It was small, yellow, and quite fuzzy. There were a few patches sewn onto the little bear, button eyes and a small, pink nose. It wore a little black hat, matching bowtie, and a charming little smile. The toy raised its little arms and waved them, hopping from foot to foot. Mike smiled, relaxing as he turned around to look back at it fully. 

“You’re awake!” It repeated. Mike heard no voice, but the words were real. He tilted his head curiously. It continued as its little paws took Mike’s hand, “Someone wants to meet you upstairs.” 

Mike stood up slowly, carefully, the bear releasing his hand to watch. The teen rubbed the back of his neck before rolling his head, sighing in relief. When he looked back down, the bear toy was gone. He blinked in confusion before looking around, perking up when the little toy was sitting on the bottom step of a long staircase. Mike smiled again. 

“If you start to fall, I will be here to catch you.” 

Mike shuffled over to the stairs before peeking up them, staring to the doorway high above. For some reason, the sight was making him anxious. He looked down at the toy to see it had moved again, now standing on the rails midway up the stairs. The teen let out a delighted little giggle before beginning to climb the stairs, anxieties brushed away with a wave of the toy. 

“If you begin to crumble, I will be here to pick up the pieces. Again, and again.” 

The door opened slowly, light shined through. Mike lit up. The songs were louder from there, the laughter calling him in. Familiar voices luring him along the stairs. His pace quickened. He heard Brenton, he heard Paul, he heard Jeremy and Mr Fazbear and Michael and his school friends. He heard cheering. He heard singing. It was so warm. Everything was so warm. Mike laughed as he rushed through the door. 

“You are broken, I will put you back together from your broken, scattered pieces. Even if the pieces are not in the correct place, I will put you back together.” 

Every other step produced a wet, sick cracking noise and of meat grinding and shifting. Tap, squilsh, tap, squilsh, tap, squilsh. Once fully in the light, Mike was visible to the camera in the corner of Parts and Services. His fluffy black hair clumped and sticking to his scalp, arms hanging loosely at his sides, the shadows behind him still hiding bits and pieces of his form. The teen didn’t raise his head, yet the dried brown and red of blood clung to his face, his hair, down his neck and stained into his shirt, sleeves, and splattered over the knee of his left leg.

He took a step up the stairs, onto his left leg, the wet noise and crackling sounding out again. The bone was sticking out under Mike’s knee, raggedly sharp, the leg somehow still intact despite the nasty break. The meat was exposed, the skin around it stretching taut over the open, bleeding, gash where the bone jutted out. His calf, his ankle, his foot, was angled to the side so the toes of his shoe pointed straight to his right instead of forward. The light finally caught his face, showing off more open holes in his lower lip, his brow, chunks of his earlobes missing as well. At first glance, they appeared to be random wounds, until one could recall Mike’s piercings – and connect the dots that they were all currently missing. He leaned forward to take the step on his broken leg, the bone shifting out nearly an inch as the weight was applied, the youth awkwardly shifting to the side with it, and continue up the stairs with no delay. No issue. Upon shifting his weight to the other foot, the bone retreated in its inch, yet remained out. He walked with no issue, no emotion on his face.

Leaving behind a smeared trail of red shoe prints in his wake. Behind him, splatters of red were left on the stairs. The floor couldn’t be seen through the dark, giving the appearance of a void that never ended, and stairs that never stopped. Mike left the workroom in silence, his leg emitting the horrible crackling, meat shifting, wet noises as he slowly hobbled away. Blood followed in a smeared trail behind him, more trickled down his face and ears. He shuffled through parts and services, the door opening for him yet again without him lifting a finger. 

Mike didn’t stop, he didn’t need to stop. He continued shuffling forward. The camera caught a glimpse of his face, his eyes; covered in a sickly, milky white film. Globs of thick, white, watery paste dribbled from his eyes down his bloody cheeks and off his chin, onto his chest and floor, adding into the red puddles below. They looked painful. He disappeared from the camera’s view. 

“Come on, you are almost there.” 

Mike giggled as he peeked around the main party room, lights glittering and music ringing out cheerfully. The animatronics stood on stage, their fuzzy fur looked so clean and soft as they moved much more fluidly than Mike remembered they did. Freddy was the first to pause his excited chattering, seeing the teen, perking up and quickly waving with his free hand. The bear looked more animated than normal, all of the bots did. Freddy reached down and offered his large paw to Mike, Bonnie sliding his guitar to offer his own. Mike laughed gleefully and used both hands to grab their offered hands, lifted easily onto the stage. 

Freddy had to help, being unable to watch the grotesque scene of Mike climbing onto the stage. His broken leg lifting and perching on the ledge of the stage pushing slowly onto it to climb up – the bone pushing out further and further with each horrible little crack. He couldn’t stand it, yet was unable to turn his head away. He rushed forward and grabbed Mike’s arm, Bonnie hurrying to his side to grab the teen’s waist and assist in pulling him onto the stage. Bonnie grimaced at the sound of the bone being pulled back to the source when Mike stood beside them. He cried out a moment after and yanked away from the youth in shock once noticing the brutalized face and ears, his paws clamping over his mouth quickly. Freddy stumbled back with a gasp and Chica, watching in pure horror, half hid behind the large bear. Freddy reached out for the teen with hesitation, paw trembling. 

“K… Kid?” 

“Don’t touch him,” A voice whispered out, causing the three to jump and look over to the source – Golden Freddy, Demetri. The golden bear leaned against the stage ledge, watching Mike intently. He clambered up the stage with a hum upon seeing Mike begin to sway, scooping him up in his arms the moment the teen began to collapse. “Oh, bother…” 

The animatronics were silent as Demetri held Mike close to his chest, the teen nearly lost in his strong arms and dingy yellow fur, the bear walking past them and to the backstage. He paused and looked back to them, his head turning to each of them one at a time.

“He will come back tonight before six to rid of Mike, I will hide him with me. Do let me know when Jeremy or Noel come in the morning and let no one else know of Mike’s whereabouts. They are the only ones who can be trusted at this point.” The bear explained. He turned back to the curtain and looked down at the boy in his arms, not daring to make any noise as if it, a simple sigh, would awaken the boy from the slumber he would not awaken from. Not yet, at least. “We must let him dream.”

The bear walked silently to the curtains, sinking into the darkness of the backstage area. The curtains closed behind him.

The tape ended.


End file.
